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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862172">titus was born</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell'>ell (amywaited)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>home of the strange [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Welcome to Night Vale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Christmas, Cute, Family Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meeting the Family, Misunderstandings, carlos and cecil against the world!, carlos is also good with kids, cecil is good with kids, family get together</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:34:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You needn’t be afraid,” Cecil says. His voice lowers to a whisper. “It’ll be okay. I’ll always be there. You’ve survived Night Vale so far, you could do anything.”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“You flatter me.”</i></p><p>  <i>“I tell the truth.”</i></p><p>  <i>Carlos chuckles. “You embellish the truth.”</i></p><p>  <i>Cecil shrugs. At least, it’s probably a shrug. It’s hard to tell, covered by blankets and pillows and the half light of midnight. “It’s still truth. I love you.”<i></i></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos/Cecil Palmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>home of the strange [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>titus was born</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>enjoy!</p><p>title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sL1f9Q25sM">titus was born</a> by young the giant.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear listeners, guess where Carlos and I are going for this year’s Christmas celebrations?! To his family home! If you are, like I was, utterly confused about the concept of Christmas Day, allow me to explain. I believe it to be a cultural festival celebrated internationally, with varying traditions per country, however all incorporating an abundance of family, and food, wherein they celebrate the birth of Christ. At least, that’s what Carlos told me. However, I can hardly contain my excitement for this holiday, and the opportunity to examine the culture outside of Night Vale. Carlos said they decorate extensively with glitter and lights, so I’m looking forward to that extremely. I shall be taking notes of everything I encounter, to report back to you. It does mean, however, that I will be unable to host a broadcast for a few days. I have made the appropriate arrangements with Station Management and the City Council, and can assure you that the radio show will be appropriately looked after in my absence. We leave tomorrow, so I hope whoever broadcasts in my place is good enough. And now, listeners, I give you… the weather.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos smiles to himself. Listening to Cecil is like listening to an all encompassing being. His voice settles around Carlos, curling up and over his shoulders in the exact way that Cecil does whenever he’s looking for a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s also glad for the auditory confirmation that Cecil is actually looking forward to spending the holiday with his family. Where he’d seemed unsure and reluctant when Carlos had first brought it up, he knows that Cecil would never lie to his listeners about anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hopes that they’ll be able to get through it without any… sacrificial rituals, or anything. They’d spent an evening the other week comparing national holidays, since Night Vale didn’t seem to operate on the same calendar as the rest of America (or the world, for that matter), and Cecil had mentioned that the standard way to begin any celebration in Night Vale was a virgin sacrifice. Which had been slightly alarming. Cecil, notoriously bad at keeping secrets, had somehow managed to keep it from him, and since Carlos isn’t Night Valean by blood, he supposes he doesn’t have to partake. But sacrificial rituals are never a good thing in Carlos’s book, and he would appreciate the heads-up about them sometimes. Waking up in a bed full of ox blood under a full moon is not how he likes to spend his Sunday mornings, thank you very much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s the issue of making sure Cecil doesn’t let slip anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>otherworldly to his family. He’d said he was excited to learn about customs outside of Night Vale, but Carlos isn’t sure if that means he can let go of the Night Valean ones for a week. Carlos had been unphased and had held a healthy amount of scientific interest when he was first learning about Night Vale; his family, however, who had never travelled further than upstate Wyoming, would be a totally different story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Cecil went up to them, expecting to be greeted with a pleasant exchanging of bodily fluids, or yelled at someone with a pen, or told the story about how sometimes you get a bad batch of soda cans in Night Vale, and they try to kill you in your sleep, then Carlos thinks his mother would manage to raise hell. In fact, she’d think they were already there. His family may be open-minded, but civil rights is one thing. Cultist paranormal, supernatural activity is a whole other kettle of fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos taps out a staccato rhythm on his wrist. He’ll have to talk to Cecil about it. Maybe ask about the rituals he does to give thanks, just in case. And set a list of words that shouldn’t ever be mentioned in the vicinity of his mother, ever. Going home for the holidays is going to end up being a bigger task than he previously anticipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not to say that it was ever a small feat in the first place. Coming from the family he did, with all its hundreds of siblings, nieces, nephews. and the cousins, and second cousins, and friends of cousins. Carlos is used to all the ins and outs of family drama, of crying children, of playing charades while wine drunk. That’s the sort of weight he can bear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just not sure if he’ll be able to manage adding </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cecil </span>
  </em>
  <span>into the mix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about five seconds away from calling his mom and cancelling the whole thing altogether when Cecil walks in. He’s got a happy grin on his face, looking as relaxed and triumphant as he always does once he’s finished a broadcast. Cecil flops onto the couch, laying his head in Carlos’s lap, and sighs happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you, dear beloved?” he asks, reaching up to curl fingers around Carlos’s jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Work was alright,” Carlos says. He’s been working on analysing air density at the moment, because physics doesn’t work right in Night Vale. Truth be told, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>works right in Night Vale. He doesn’t mention to Cecil that work was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>alright, since he’d spent all of it distracted, and had nothing to show for it regardless. “How was the station?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil sits up fast enough to risk smashing his forehead into Carlos’s chin. “Oh! It was wonderful. But Khoshekh, Carlos, he was sick today. We had given him his food as usual, and everyone left to work. Then we went back in the afternoon to top him up and there was a pile of mucus on the floor. It was smoking slightly, and pulsing. It was truly disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope Khoshekh feels better soon, then,” Carlos says. He pauses for a second, then: “Did someone clear it up yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil looks at him with so much love in his eyes that Carlos can see it becoming sentient. He begins to dig around in his pockets (which seem to ignore any and every rule about spatial dimensions) and pulls out a jar full of a gloopy substance. It looks almost like boogers that’ve been stuck in a food processor and mixed up with oat milk to make an abomination of a smoothie. “Yes, but don’t worry!” he says, holding the jar out. Carlos takes it gingerly, like it might explode at a moment's notice. For all he knows, it very well might. “I knew you’d ask, so here, I got a sample for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos is filled with such a sudden rush of affection for Cecil that it feels like it might burst out of his chest, like that scene in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alien. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He can’t help but lean forward to kiss Cecil, trying to funnel all of his appreciation and adoration through his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I don’t wholeheartedly agree,” Cecil says, murmured against his skin. “But what was that for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos shrugs. “No reason. Just because I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil sits back slightly and looks at Carlos like he suddenly knows all of his deepest secrets, ever. “You’re afraid of going home to your family, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos stays quiet. Cecil’s face falls considerably. He says, “you’re afraid of… bringing me home to your family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No. Cecil, that’s not it at all,” Carlos says. His eyebrows try to tangle themselves together in anxiety and frustration. “I mean, I am nervous, yeah, but not because of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why?” Cecil asks. Carlos thinks it must be his third eye, or something, or maybe he’s bewitched him, because everything about Cecil just makes him feel weak at the knees. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I don’t want this to go wrong,” Carlos says. He slumps against Cecil’s shoulder, trying to draw out comfort. “I don’t want something to happen that’ll put you or us at risk. I love every single part of you, but I can’t promise that my family will, and I can’t promise that they’ll even accept it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Carlos, I already knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>that!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Cecil says. “Don’t be silly. I’ve had plenty of people not like me, I think I can deal with it. Besides, I’ve been doing my research. I know that your home isn’t like Night Vale is, and that your family may not be as accommodating. And I don’t mind! As long as you’re there, I could do anything. And you were remarkably tolerant of my family,” Cecil tells him, matter of fact and stern. “I think I can tolerate yours for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been… researching?” Carlos asks, dumbfounded. “But… no one in Night Vale has been outside of Night Vale. Except for…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve Carlsberg, yes, I know,” Cecil says. “You see, Carlos, this will be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, what is it with Carlos’s feelings tonight? Every single emotion he has feels like its running on acid. Now, his eyes start to prickle uncomfortably. “How can you be sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have my hypothesis,” Cecil says. He jumps up, pulling a sheet of paper from his bottomless pockets. “See, I’ve written a presentation for you, because I knew you’d be so reluctant to believe me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos chuckles. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you managed to keep it secret?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil looks incredibly proud of himself. “Of course I did. Now, here. My hypothesis: the Christmas celebrations with Carlos’s family will be fun, happy, and free of Night Valean terrors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos makes a face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can shorten it to simply free of Night Valean terrors?” Cecil suggests. “My experiment is that we’re going to your childhood home for the Christmas holidays. The variables are: Cecil’s in/ability to control his Night Valean attributes, Carlos’s family presenting a higher than expected intuition, and something from Night Vale following us and causing trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could that happen?” Carlos asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s extremely unlikely that something will follow us,” Cecil says. It does little to set Carlos’s nerves at ease. “It’s best to be prepared though, just in case. I hope you don’t mind if I bring my bloodstones along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as the kids don’t get a hold of them,” Carlos says. He gestures for Cecil to sit back down. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to thank me,” Cecil says. “I know you were about to call your mother and cancel before I got home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...How did you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil winks his third eye at him. “You can be incredibly predictable when you want to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I’d better work on that, then,” Carlos says. “We can’t have you knowing everything I’ll do before I do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil laughs. “I did also see you glaring at your phone through the window and made an educated guess. Ooh, I must be becoming a proper scientist now. You’re rubbing off on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, yeah,” Carlos says. He curls their fingers together, holding on like it’s a lifeline. “That’s certainly one word for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cecil jerks awake that morning, prompting Carlos awake too, because apparently he’s finetuned to everything Cecil does now. Its early enough that the sun (or what is hopefully the sun) is only just beginning to peer over the horizon, blood red and molten like it usually is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cecil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil turns panicked, crazed eyes in Carlos’s direction. “Will I need to bring gifts for your family?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Carlos could almost laugh at the ludicrousy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t, obviously, because he’s a good boyfriend and also knows that there’s a time and a place. “You don’t have to,” he says, reaching over to tug Cecil back into the pillows. “No one will be expecting anything. They’ll just be grateful that I’m actually bringing someone home to meet them. But we can stop and get a bouquet of flowers from somewhere if it’ll make you feel better?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil sighs. He slumps into Carlos’s arms. “Are you sure that’ll be enough? I think Old Woman Josie had a fresh crop of crab apples. We could bring those!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos makes a face, because Cecil backtracks immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or… not. Do you not have crab apples outside of Night Vale?” he asks, with all the innocence of a child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do,” Carlos says, like he’s treading very lightly. “Just… they’re just apples. They don’t have pincers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Cecil remarks. He makes a face right back. “How boring. I suppose flowers will have to do, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos restrains himself from heaving a sigh of relief. He’s sure his mom would appreciate any gift, but he’s not sure how he’d explain crab apples that are more crab than apple. “Can we go back to sleep now?” he asks, since the crisis has been somewhat averted now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmh,” Cecil says. He curls up into his customary sleep-ball (which had taken some getting used to, actually. Carlos had always had bed-partners who starfished quite enthusiastically. Having one who tucked into a fetal position and scarcely moved until he woke up was incredibly different). “Yeah. Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos is stressing. He’s stressing because Cecil is stressing, and when Cecil stresses, he does so astronomically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carlos, what if they hate me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re in Carlos’s car, gas station flowers sitting on the backseat next to a suitcase. Cecil keeps fiddling with the radio volume, turning it up and down in equal increments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not going to hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if they do?” Cecil insists. “I’m weird, and different. And you’ve almost died! They’re never going to let me see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not that weird,” Carlos says. Truth be told, he’s not actually sure what to say. Because Cecil’s right; he is different, and a bit weird, and his family very well could tell him that he was never allowed to go back to Night Vale again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m weirder than normal humans,” Cecil says mournfully. He twiddles the volume knob again. “They’re going to hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos turns left at a junction. He says, “maybe it’s like the zodiacs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more you say it, the more you believe it. Once the idea has been planted, the more likely it is to happen,” Carlos explains. “You know, the power of suggestion and all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the zodiacs are real,” Cecil says. “They’re an ancient science.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos looks at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever. They’re still going to hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos sighs. He adjusts the volume knob this time. “Then if they do, I’ll have to delete their numbers and we’ll never go back again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gives Cecil pause. Carlos can feel him turn to stare at him. “You’d choose me over them? Over your family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’d prefer not to. But if I have to, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the reassurance practically ooze out of Cecil as he deflates slightly. “That’s so romantic. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos shrugs. He takes another turn and pulls in front of an all too familiar house. “Well, here we are. You ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil visibly stiffens. “Yes. I think so. Carlos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t hate me if something </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>go wrong, will you?” Cecil asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos leans across the centre console to press their foreheads together. “I could never hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil’s breath brushes against his lips. Carlos can taste how relieved he feels. “Okay. I believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos nods. He turns the engine off and opens the car door. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They climb out together. Cecil reaches into the backseat to pull out the flowers and their suitcase, handing the case over to Carlos. He locks the car, swallows the pit making a home in his stomach and leads Cecil towards the front door. It opens before Carlos can even lift a hand to knock, and Cecil tenses beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carlos! Thank the Lord you’re finally here!” His mom practically throws herself at him, and then at Cecil, who looks so alarmed that Carlos almost laughs. “You must be Cecil. I’m Maria, his mother. Carlos has told us much about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil just makes a strangled sort of noise that could be flattered, embarrassed, or him choking. He shoves the flowers at her with a look on his face that one might envision on a mouse about to get eaten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos slides an arm around Cecil’s waist and squeezes in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “Shall we…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Yes, of course,” Maria says. She opens the door wide enough for them to pass through and Carlos leads Cecil inside. “Your sisters, they are already here, Florencia and Sebastian, and Isabella and Juan with children. They have been asking for you all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not that late, are we?” Carlos asks. He puts their suitcase at the bottom of the staircase and slips his shoes off, gesturing for Cecil to do the same. He looks like he’s deeply suppressing the urge to perform some sort of Night Valean home-coming ritual, so Carlos puts a hand on his elbow and the other on Cecil’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria makes a show of checking her watch. Carlos gives her a withering look, which she responds to with a sly smile and disappears into the living room, leaving him and Cecil standing in the entry hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Cecil says, but he doesn’t really sound it. Carlos settles a hand on the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. You can go upstairs to my old room if you want to do something that’ll make you feel more comfortable, or get away from everything for a bit,” he says. “Come on. Let’s go put the suitcase upstairs and I’ll show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure your family won’t mind?” Cecil asks. He begins to follow Carlos upstairs, stepping with great care. Carlos can’t fault him for that; he’s become slightly wary of stairs too ever since the Incident last year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course they won’t mind,” Carlos says. He points at a framed picture hanging on the landing. “Hey, you mentioned wanting to see baby photos, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil glances at him before turning to stare at the photograph. “Who is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me, and my sister Florencia. Flo,” Carlos says. “I was probably about five there. She would have been three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil reaches out to trace over Carlos in the photo. “You’ve always had beautiful hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos breathes out his laugh. He threads their fingers together. “You should have seen it in eighth grade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I straightened it every day,” Carlos explains. He leads Cecil over to a door at the end of the landing, pushing it open and leading him inside. “Had this awful fringe. I put red streaks in it over the summer before tenth grade and my mom went mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil looks horrified. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>dyed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos shrugs. “Yeah. Never have since, though. Anyway, this is where you can go if you need a break. Mi casa es su casa, and so on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is your old room?” Cecil asks. He looks around, almost in awe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. So if you find any old posters, or whatever, you just have to blame sixteen year old Carlos, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil chuckles. “I think it’s wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, thanks. I’m gonna go say hi to the rest of the family, okay? You can stay here, if you want. Just come down whenever. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Cecil says. He kisses Carlos quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed. He turns around to dig out, presumably, his candles and the bloodstones from the bag. “I’ll be quick. And careful. Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you,” Carlos says. “I’ll see you downstairs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s that boyfriend of yours, Carlito?” Florencia calls out as soon as Carlos reappears downstairs. She’s sitting on the floor with a child in her lap, who seems completely enamoured with the family cat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s upstairs, Flo,” Carlos says. “Where’s that husband of yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s outside,” she pats the floor beside her. “Come here. You look well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos sinks to the floor beside her. “Implying I didn’t look well before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slaps his shoulder. “No. You look happier. Cecil and Night Vale seem to be treating you well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos decides not to mention the fact that he’s had more near death experiences in a year than he has in his entire life since living in Night Vale. Instead he just smiles at her, and pokes her kid in the shoulder. “Hey, Emilia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Tio Carlos,” she says, with a gummy smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting big,” he says. “I see the Tooth Fairy’s been paying some visits?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emilia looks at him like he’s stupid. “Don’t be silly, Tio. It’s not the Tooth Fairy, it’s the Tooth Pirate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tooth </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pirate?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re gonna have to tell me more about that one,” Carlos says, with a pointed look at Flo, who shrugs helplessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fairies aren’t real,” Emilia tells him. “Duh. Pirates are. And pirates have lots of money and treasure. And they do lots of stealing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t argue with that,” Carlos says. “That’s some pretty sound logic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil appears at his side. “Are you talking about the Tooth Pirate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Carlos says. “You know it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course,” Cecil says. He sits down beside Carlos, crossing his legs. “The idea that it’s a fairy is ridiculous, since fairies aren’t real. For a scientist, Carlos, you’d think it would be obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emilia giggles. “Tio Carlos, your boyfriend is really clever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t I know it,” says Carlos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Cecil says, smiling at Emilia. “My name is Cecil. What’s yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emilia,” she says. “You have funny eyes. I’ve never seen a person with purple eyes before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very lucky,” Cecil says. “But you have lovely eyes, too. I think brown is a wonderful colour for eyes. I met someone once who had bright red eyes, and they glowed in the dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emilia’s jaw drops. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Cecil says. “He turned a lot of heads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emilia, why don’t you go and play with your cousins outside?” Flo suggests. “Then you can tell them that we can have snacks in a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emilia nods, jumping up before holding her hand out to Cecil. “It’s nice to meet you, Carlos’s boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil looks at a slight loss at what to do. Carlos wiggles his fingers at him and mimes shaking hands. Cecil hooks his fingers with Emilia’s tentatively. She grins her gappy smile at him, before running out to the yard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Flo says. “Cecil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil looks up from studiously analysing his palm. “Yes?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Florencia. Carlos’s sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flo, don’t-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he did mention that,” Cecil says. “It’s lovely to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo looks Cecil up and down. Carlos can feel her gaze burning off on him too. “So tell me about yourself, Cecil. What do you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a radio presenter,” Cecil says, like he can’t tell that Flo is currently scavenging for blood like a shark. Carlos can only hope that the rest of the week won’t be like this. “I host a daily show for Night Vale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? What do you present on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just the comings and goings of our town. You know, corrupt politicians, celebrity gossip, the weather,” Cecil says. “Regular stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d discussed on the drive over that any mention of Night Vale’s mortality rate/blatant disregard for anything that could be considered normal by any stretch of the word should be avoided. Carlos hopes they’ll be able to get away with it; for as much as he hates lying to his family, he’d hate to put Cecil and Night Vale at risk even more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regular stuff,” Flo agrees. “Tell me how you and Carlos met. Carlos is stingy with details, so we hardly know anything about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m stingy for good reason,” Carlos mutters. “And stop interrogating him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not interrogating, I’m just interested to know about him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and for you, that’s practically an interrogation. Stop it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Carlos,” Cecil says. “She’s welcome to ask. Besides, my brother did the same to you! It’s only a fair exchange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not, because Cecil’s brother is some sort of eldritch amalgamation of animal, human, and octopus. His brother’s interrogation had boiled down to several long minutes of screeching at Carlos and a few put out looks, both of which Carlos had been able to shrug off, given he hadn’t actually understood much beyond ‘hurt Cecil and you’ll regret it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Florencia, on the other hand, had a remarkable screech, on top of being uncomfortably observant and sharp. He squashes the urge to expel every molecule of breath in his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met in a town meeting,” Cecil begins to say. “It’s incredibly boring, really. Especially for Night Vale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we hardly talked at first,” Carlos continues. “I was just calling him for things to report on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then I asked him on a date, and you said no,” Cecil says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I didn’t think it was a date!” Carlos says. “But I did call back and we met up to talk about my experiments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Cecil says. “Then there was the Bowling Alley Fiasco, and you finally, finally asked me out properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo’s quiet for several minutes. Then, she smiles. “He’s alright, Carlos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’d better be,” Carlos says, “because I’m never bringing another man home if this is how you’ll treat him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be silly,” she says. “I’ll tell mom and everyone else to back off, now you’ve got the Flo seal of Approval.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos knocks his shoulder into hers. “Yeah, thanks. Not that I needed your approval.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but doesn’t it feel nice to have it all the same?” she says, smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get more annoying every time I see you,” Carlos informs her. He also reaches an arm out to wrap it around Cecil’s shoulders, trying to push an apology out through his skin so Cecil can somehow absorb it. It seems to work, somehow, because Cecil squeezes back in a reassuring sort of way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pot, meet kettle,” Flo says. “I should go find Emmy. I’m sure you’ll meet everyone else soon, Cecil. And then you’ll be glad that you met me first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil makes a face that looks like he’s interested but actually he just wants to run away. Carlos can sympathise immensely, but he can’t even protest because Flo is probably right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaves with a wave and a wink, heading to the kitchen and prompting Cecil to practically melt into Carlos, burying his face in his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is all your family going to be like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Carlos says. “She just wants the best. And hopefully not. Hopefully she’ll be able to head some of it off. They mean well by it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Cecil says. His words blow out in warm puffs against Carlos’s neck. “It’s sweet of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos would disagree. It’s mostly embarrassing. But with Cecil resting his head in the crook between Cecil’s neck and his shoulder, curls tickling the bare patch of skin exposed by his stretched collar, he can’t bring himself to voice it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Cecil says, standing just inside the door to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh- Cecil? Are you looking for Carlos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil flushes slightly. “Um, no, Mrs-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maria, call me Maria,” she says, wiping her hands on a towel. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Maria. Thank you. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to… help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re guest! No, you sit back down and we sort this out, you don’t worry,” Maria says, vaguely affronted like Cecil has offended her in some way, bustling about and trying to push him out the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s no trouble,” he tries to say. “I’d love to help, honestly. If there’s anything I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria stops, and considers. Cecil feels like she’s staring straight into his soul. “Hm. Are you good at chopping potatoes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil takes the knife and cutting board she offers, setting them up next to the stove. “Thank you, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Maria,” she says. “Cut into quarters and put them in the pot. You don’t mind if I ask you things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Cecil says. He’d expected this. He slices through the first potato. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria runs a head of broccoli under the tap and starts breaking it apart. “Tell me about Night Vale. Carlos never tells us anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s quite… It’s weird,” Cecil says. “Carlos says it’s just a small town thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s small?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s certainly not big,” Cecil chuckles. “Everyone sort of knows one another. News travels fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Florencia said you are radio host, yes?” Maria asks. She sounds genuinely interested, and Cecil finds himself just talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yes. I host a daily broadcast for the town. It’s not that… interesting. Carlos’s work is far better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know Carlos’s work,” Maria says. “I want to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What are the neighbours like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they’re nice,” Cecil says, because they are. When they’re not trying to prevent (or cause, he won’t judge) the nuclear apocalypse. “Quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a lie. Obviously. It’s obviously a lie, and Maria probably knows that, because Cecil is awful at lying when he doesn’t have a script. But she doesn’t say anything about the quiver in his voice, or the doubt clouding it, like he’s not too sure about what he’s saying. Which he’s not, and Cecil personally thinks he’s doing a great job at pretending like he is sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” she says. Cecil slices more potatoes. “We try to Google it. Night Vale. No results.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. Right. He and Carlos hadn’t discussed this yet; of course Night Vale doesn’t come up in standard search results. It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically </span>
  </em>
  <span>real (or at least, consistently tangible). Carlos had seemed willing to ignore it (or unaware of it, Cecil wonders now), and Cecil hadn’t thought this was going to come up in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bluffs. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, how odd,” Cecil says. “I’ll bring it up with our town council when we get home; I’m sure we can fix that soon enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juan, he search it again,” Maria says, “he search on a different site. ‘Night Vale: the town that does not exist’, ‘Mass casualty in radiation incident in Night Vale’, ‘Hundreds dead in brutal murder spree in small town Night Vale.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like just stories,” Cecil says. Christ. He’d thought this would be easy, chopping vegetables with Carlos’s mother, away from everyone else’s wandering, watchful eyes and their smirks. He’d thought it would be easier. “Simple fiction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was photo of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On site. There was photos. In front of hospitals, in front of craters, in front of bowling alley,” Maria says. “The stories are true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me one thing. Is Carlos safe there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil puts the knife down. “I- I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he leaves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Cecil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos can’t help but think the worst. Living in Night Vale did that, where every minor inconvenience could turn into a wildly destructive force. He’s used to knowing where Cecil is every time he turns around, but now he can’t find him, and his mind just spirals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cecil?” Juan says. “I haven’t seen him since you arrived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo shrugs too. “Me neither. Is he upstairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos shakes his head. He’d already checked. “No. I don’t know where he went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw him going to help abuelita in the kitchen,” Emilia says. She’s sitting on the floor playing on Carlos’s phone with Jaime, thoroughly distracted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Carlos says. “Can I borrow my phone quickly to call him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Tio Carlos,” Jaime says. He takes it off of Emilia and hands it to him. “Mom, can we have a snack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos leaves Flo to try and regale her kids, heading out to the porch to call Cecil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Carlos?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cecil, oh thank God. Where did you go? Is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything’s fine, dear Carlos. Don’t worry,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Cecil says. He sounds alright, and just his voice manages to soothe Carlos’s frantic heart. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I just went for a small walk. I apologise for not warning you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, don’t worry. It’s just… I couldn’t find you and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know. I’m coming back now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Carlos says. “Okay, good. Did something happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil is quiet for a long while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cecil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, Carlos. I’m afraid I ruined everything. Your mother, she knows. She was asking me about Night Vale. I tried to say it was normal, but she said she and Juan had found articles and sites about our town. About the bowling alley, and Radon Canyon. All of it. Apparently, there was a photo of me on there. I’m so sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Carlos says. The rest of the world around him fades away, honing on Cecil, and Cecil’s voice. “What do you mean she knows?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She knows the truth about Night Vale, Carlos,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cecil swallows, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>she knows it’s not normal. She probably knows I’m not normal.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>If you never want to see me again, Carlos, that’s okay. I could never make you choose between me and your family. I will never be sorry enough for ruining this trip for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you nearly back?” Carlos says, almost as soon as Cecil appears at the front gate. He hangs up, trying to rush towards Cecil without actually rushing too much. “I’m sorry for panicking,” he says, wrapping his arms around Cecil almost desperately. “And you don’t have to be sorry. Gods, Cecil, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>if my family knows about Night Vale, I care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel Cecil’s fingers flexing on his hips. “Oh, Carlos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Carlos says. “Are you okay to go back in? We don’t have to stay the whole week. We could just stay in my room the whole time, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps we could… retire to your room for now. We should talk about how to broach the subject of Night Vale with your family,” Cecil says. He sounds tired, he sounds exhausted. Carlos agrees readily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waits until Cecil falls asleep before slipping out of his room and into Flo’s. He hasn’t done this since he was sixteen and he’s almost forgotten which of the floorboards creak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wakes up almost immediately, sitting up slowly, quietly, and frowning at him. Carlos makes the gesture they’d decided on all those years ago, the ‘come downstairs, I need to talk and it's urgent’ one. He’s surprised to find that he still knows it, and even more so that Flo still does as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She follows him down to the living room, where they curl up on the couch together, her legs thrown over his. “Been a while since we did this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Carlos says. The darkness is almost suffocating, but he’s about 98% sure that it’s safe here. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About Night Vale. About… Cecil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo frowns at him. “What about him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just… promise me you won’t hate me. Us,” Carlos says. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could never hate you. What is this about, Carlos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juan and Ma, they searched up Night Vale,” Carlos begins. “Cecil said that they found some weird articles about the town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo shrugs. “I don’t get it. Surely it’d just be stupid stories?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos shakes his head. “No. ‘Cos they’re true.” His voice wobbles, like he’s dangerously close to breaking down. “And I don’t wanna have to leave Night Vale, or Cecil, just because Ma is scared for me. But they’re true, and Flo, please just don’t hate us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They can’t be that bad,” Flo says. There’s a tension-filled pause. “Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos sighs. “They’re… they’re pretty bad. It’s… Night Vale’s different. And not just small town sort of different. It’s like, supernatural and paranormal and like it’s out of the fucking Twilight Zone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, so you’ve got a couple of reports of ghosts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than ghosts,” Carlos says, “inhuman things. Like, sci-fi monsters and demons and a level of radiation that should have killed everyone fifty years ago. Everyone should be dead, but they’re not, and I don’t even know if the town exists all the time! There’s portals to, like, parallel worlds and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo looks at him for a long while. “And you’re not lying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I lie about this? Cecil isn’t strictly human, and talking about it could get us locked up and experimented on,” Carlos says. “Why would I do that to him? Of course I’m serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes in a breath without seeming to breathe. “Right. Okay. So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted you to hear it from me. Not Ma, or Juan, or anyone else. And I want you to understand,” Carlos says. Her toes flex on his shin. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell any of us about this?” Flo asks, in mostly a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I knew you’d make me come home. And I didn’t want to. Cecil is everything, now, and Night Vale is so much better than… here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it dangerous?” she asks, tone heavy with something that Carlos is too tired to identify. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows before answering. “Yeah. But… I’ve never been safer, or happier. Cecil protects me there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is he? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a radio presenter, like he said. Just, he’s a little bit omniscient and kind of connected to the town, on like, a psychological level,” Carlos says. “It sounds weird, I know. But for as long as I’m with him, the town can’t hurt me, and I can focus on making sure it doesn’t hurt anyone else either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo nods slowly. “Okay. And you’re sure about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos has to shake his head. Her face falls very slightly, but she squeezes closer to him so her head can rest on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay," she says, “I trust you, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Carlos feels the weight of the world lift from his heart. He feels it practically vanish from his shoulders, when someone starts padding down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil stops about three steps from the bottom, frowning around curiously. He’s mostly covered in shadow, but his hair is pushed back, and it exposes the bottom lashline of his third eye, and his sleeves are rolled up. His tattoos aren’t moving as much as they could be, Carlos notes (small victories), but they are wriggling a little bit around his wrists. “Carlos? Are you down here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo gasps beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m here, Cecil,” Carlos says, pinching Flo’s thigh, hard. “I was explaining to Flo about Night Vale. Um. Come here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil steps further into the room. He looks nervous, almost as anxious as he was before they arrived but in a different way. “Am I interrupting you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo’s eyes widen, and Carlos pinches her harder. “No,” he says, “not at all. It’ll probably help for Flo to see… all of you, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Flo says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil chuckles in the way that Carlos knows means he’s preparing for a rejection, so he gestures for him to join them on the couch. “I apologise, then,” he says, sitting so daintily on the couch that it’s almost like he expects it to explode. “I’d have gotten a bit more dressed up if I’d known we were doing this now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo reaches out a hand. “Can I…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil nods, and she pushes his hair further up, fully exposing the third eye. It blinks at her, just out of time with his other two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it works?” Flo asks. “Like, as an actual eye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, right?” Carlos says. “It’s amazing. He’s amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Cecil smile. “Stop it, Carlos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Carlos insists. “Can you show Flo what you can do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean there’s more?” Flo asks. She lets Cecil’s hair fall back over his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil nods. “Yes. Has Carlos told you about my job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Part of it is… being the Voice of Night Vale. The third eye allows me omniscience, and the tattoos for protection. But I’ve also got some arsenal of spellwork. Any native-born Night Valean can perform weak magic with rituals, but I can without them,” Cecil says. “I don’t quite know why, or how. Carlos must have mentioned how I’m not fully human?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flo nods. “Yeah. Can you show me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil glances at Carlos. He smiles in what he hopes is an encouraging manner. Cecil holds out a hand and clicks his fingers, and a spark flickers up in the centre of his palm. It’s the same green as when he’d set Carlos’s pens alight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Flo says. “So you really were serious. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Carlos says. Cecil extinguishes the flame and settles against Carlos. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be sorry, this is amazing!” Flo exclaims. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, except Mama knows,” Carlos says. “And now she probably hates me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, Maria barely looks at either of them. Flo looks like she doesn’t know quite where to stand, like she’s floating in an odd sort of limbo. Juan, thankfully, acts vaguely normal, and so does Isabella and the kids. Carlos tries to act like it isn’t absolutely tearing him up inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s Christmas without some family drama?” Carlos asks Cecil that night, lying in bed together after quite possibly the most awkward meal of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know,” Cecil says. “We don’t celebrate Christmas the way you do. My family don’t tend to converse the same way either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos knows that well enough. He thinks he had nightmares of inhumane screeching for a week after he met Cecil’s family. “No. I know. I’m sorry this all happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I’m still gonna apologise. It’s my family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil traces a finger across Carlos’s hairline. “You aren’t in control of their actions. If things go absolutely, irreversibly wrong, we’ll be fine. As legal citizens of Night Vale, your police out here won’t be able to do much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t put Carlos’s mind at rest. “Good to know. I don’t think my mom would call the police on us. She’s not like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s brave,” Cecil says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. She is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She loves you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos sighs. “I want her to love you, as well. And tomorrow is Christmas. I’m scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, darling. You needn’t be afraid,” Cecil says. His voice lowers to a whisper. “It’ll be okay. I’ll always be there. You’ve survived Night Vale so far, you could do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You flatter me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tell the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos chuckles. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>embellish</span>
  </em>
  <span> the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil shrugs. At least, it’s probably a shrug. It’s hard to tell, covered by blankets and pillows and the half light of midnight. “It’s still truth. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe things will be alright after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carlos is a fool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all the academic prowess he may possess, he is severely lacking in common sense and everything that doesn’t come out of a textbook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d like to be able to defend himself (quantum physics is so much easier to understand than the woes of humanity), but it's a weak argument at best. He has enough human logic to know that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he’s a fool when his mom calls for lunch and the family congregates in the dining room, post stocking opening, so all the children are jacked up on chocolate and their parents look like they’re ready for death to take them. He knows he’s a fool when she stands up and stares gravely at everyone, except for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he’s a fool when she says: “Carlos has lied to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma, please-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds up her hand and he shuts up. “He lied about his town. He is in danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not in danger,” he says. Cecil puts a hand on his knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His town is dangerous,” Maria continues. “He is not safe. I do not want him to return there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos can’t stop himself from jumping up then, pushing his chair back so quickly it tips over. In his peripheral, he can see Cecil slowly picking it back up. “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t stop him!” Flo snaps, standing too. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>lives </span>
  </em>
  <span>there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I refuse for him to die there!” Maria says tersely. “He is my little boy. I want him safe, and Night Vale is not safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s safer than here,” Carlos spits. “I’m not leaving. Night Vale is my home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your home is </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it isn’t,” Flo says for him. “Can’t you see? Carlos, he’s happier there. He looks better than he has in years!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria turns a snide, poisonous glare on her. “I am glad that he will look at least beautiful on his deathbed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma, that’s not what I’m saying,” Flo says, “just listen. Carlos belongs in Night Vale. He belongs with Cecil. You can’t take him away from that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Maria says. She turns to the plates and begins serving. “I do not want arguments with you today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you bring it up?” Carlos asks. He can’t help it; he reaches over to start passing loaded plates around. “You must have known that I would argue about this. Because I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>leaving Night Vale, and I’m not leaving Cecil. No matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it’s best if I go,” Cecil starts to say. “I hate to be the centre of your worries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go anywhere,” Carlos snaps. “I’m not leaving without you. Ma, I live in Night Vale. I want to live in Night Vale. I want to live with Cecil, and get married and have kids, and I want to do it in Night Vale. And if that means I have to say goodbye to the family I have here, then I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carlos, you can’t,” Cecil’s hand loops around his wrist, trying to pull him back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tio Carlos, you can’t go!” Emilia cries. Flo reaches out to shush her, but Carlos doesn’t pay attention to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would not dare, Carlos.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t pay attention to much else until the front door has slammed shut behind him and he’s safely hidden in the car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits there for several long minutes, in silence, until Cecil slips into the passenger seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Carlos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos shakes his head. Whether he’s rejecting Cecil’s apology, or just in pure disbelief, he’s not sure. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Cecil agrees, “but I suppose this means my hypothesis was wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, your family presented a higher intuition than we expected. I’m a Night Valean terror, and I inadvertently ruined Christmas,” Cecil shrugs. “And now your family hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say ‘I told you so’, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil makes a faint exhalation that could be a laugh. “I won’t. Give me your hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for?” Carlos asks, but he holds out his palm regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecil just smiles in that perfectly suspicious way of his and covers Carlos’s hand with his. He squeezes, murmurs something, and then Carlos feels something tickling his palm, and Cecil removes his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Carlos asks, staring at the dusty silver matter spread across his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Star dust,” Cecil says, completely serious. “Or at least, the nearest approximation I can conjure up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos breathes and the dust dissipates. “I’m sorry this went so badly. I wanted my family to love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that matters now, dear Carlos. Florencia was lovely, and her children. I’m afraid I didn’t have a chance to speak much with the others, but they’re not that bad,” Cecil says. “Regardless, I have you. And that’s all I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” Cecil says, a smile in his voice. “And apparently, so are you. I never knew you wanted to get married, or have children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carlos looks down, trying to ignore the flustered blush rising in his cheeks. “Yeah, well. I guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait,” Cecil promises, speaking it like a prophecy. Carlos can only hope that it really will come true. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>eeek SO i honestly,,,, hate the ending. but it got to the point where i felt bad that i hadnt posted it yet, and it was getting really quite long, and i just was like FUCK THIS IM DONE.</p><p>my life revolves around animal crossing and drag race right now, and motivation comes in extremely low quantities. oh well! my brain hasnt been kind to me recently, but id still like to thank everyone for the comments left on the previous part in this series, and also the comments on the other wtnv thing i posted the other day. u make my day!</p><p>anyway, i hope everyone stays safe and happy! perhaps,,,, there will be,,, another sequel,,,</p></blockquote></div></div>
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